Like Bullets Ricochet

 

The Mag #223

 

 

 

 In a dream you are never eighty.  ~Anne Sexton

Like bullets ricochet so do memories within our nightly dreams
they shoot blindly at our heart and then bounce out into lights gleam
All the lost agendas and acts that got stored onto a tape
rewind in awkward segments like a movie that won't erase.
Sometimes they are a message of a path we should not cross
while others are a film of recollections that once were truly lost.
They are an obscure journey that ventures deep into the mind
where life's hidden plots and mysteries unravel for us to find.




I have always believed that our dreams hold a deep meaning yet at times they are simply just an unraveling of the day and days gone by.  Sometimes you get obscurity and other times a clear message, but either way you get a morsel of truth for thought.  To me it is like a movie inside my mind.  When I was 15 years old, I had the BIG dream of writing a book that would be made into a screen play.  So at night sometimes in my dreams I would dream a story that played out, and at the closing, I would say "the end", and I would wake up.  Yes, it sounds a little crazy, but it is true.  Okay I am crazy, but that is another story.

THE END :-)

 

Broken Records

Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther

The Mag #153

"Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened"

~T.S. Eliot

The song of old regrets plays like nostalgic records inside my broken heart and weary mind.

I carefully place each one on the player and replay each song until I have memorized every line.
Then I dance with each lament like lovers close enough to keep whispering in my ear.
So the breath of one hundred aches and grievances sing softly yet they sing clear,
with the cadence of a blues song it is an elegy and never rings with glory like a hymn.
All the records play only sad songs that speak to my heart a penance for my lost sins,
and I keep them deep in a forlorn place where my heart slips down into sorrows like too much wine,
for the dance of life has awkward steps that fall short of perfection each and every time.




I am generally a positive person and do not dwell on my mistakes and regrets as much as I probably could, but when I finally do it is always a dance of grief inside of my mind....ruminating the undone and should nots like old broken records stuck on a certain line.  Somehow, this photo just pulled that out of the heart of me and, place it upon the page. 

Geology of a Broken Heart

Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937, by Edward Weston

The Mag # 142

Also linking with Imaginary Gardens open link Monday.

"God can heal a broken heart, but He has to have all the pieces". ~Author Unknown

We cautiously excavate our  life like a young geologist

unsure of what to let lay and what to keep.

Digging through each hurt like rubble

and dusting off the loss for all to see.

We examine all the evidence of life

hypothesizing the source of pain

looking for some reason

hoping for proof or someone to blame.

We leave ourselves wide open

when we search with eyes closed tight.

Trudging further in the mud instead

of digging deeper down inside.

We take on the heavy burden

to somehow carry on the journey home.

Never understanding these worn artifacts

were not meant for us to bear alone.

I believe that the process of recovery and the lesson of letting go is an ongoing journey we never stop re-learning.  Life is full of adversity that we must face everyday, and like choosing salad verses french fries, it is a constant choice. With every problem that arises (and trust me, they will show up, like an unwanted bill in the mail), we have the power to give it to God, and seek His guidance, or to hold on to the situation ourselves, and lean on our own strength and will.  I choose the lighter option. :-)